University Of Phoenix
Frederic S. Stow
March 17, 2010
It was March 16, 2010, 0300 hours, military time. He had to wake bright and early this day. We had been planning for months now, but it never seemed like it was enough. Today was the day that my boyfriend, of two years, was leaving for Iraq. With both of us being in the service, I knew the day would come, I just did not realize it would be so soon. As the alarm sounded off, I could already feel the emptiness in my stomach, not from hunger, but from all the mixed emotions I was having. I did not want to wake him I just wanted to lay in his arms for one last moment. I nudged him a little, expecting a, “Five more minutes, Babe!” But to my surprise he sat right up, kissed me on my forehead, and rolled out of bed. He sounds off with a, “Duty Calls!” before slamming the door and turning the shower on. One leg follows the other as I slowly get out of bed, with not one bit of excitement. I mosey into the kitchen and begin to cook breakfast. I hear him singing cadences as he showers, and giggle to myself. Noticing how he is not taking this, even half as bad as me. About twenty minutes later a clean-shaved, fully suited, soldier sits down at the table. I set his food down, and go to sit across from him; instead he pulls me over to him, probably realizing my gloominess, and kisses my face, assuring me that everything will be okay. I smile and kiss him back, afraid to speak, because with words the tears might come, and the last thing I want is for him to see me cry.
While getting dressed I hear him rushing, urging me to hurry, but I refuse, hoping that maybe if he misses his flight, that he will not have to go at all. Knowing that I am wrong, I grab my purse and walk out, locking the door behind me. Somehow he is still smiling, I do not know how, if it was me, I would be begging to stay, but this is what he wants, so I smile back.